


The Devil in the dumpster

by mauvera



Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint is looking for Daredevil's secret identity, Gen, Identity Reveal, he gets beat up a lot, look i just want matt and clint to be really begrudging friends who secretly really like each other, rating is for real mild violence and swearing idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mauvera/pseuds/mauvera
Summary: All Clint wanted was a simple recon mission, check out this new guy in the Halloween costume and get outta there. But no, why would that happen and be all nice and easy when instead he could just get his ass handed to him by the Devil of Hell's kitchen.What kind of bullshit had he gotten himself into.





	The Devil in the dumpster

Clint groaned. Oh, boy was that a mistake.

The smell of rotten food swept into his open mouth, clogging his throat. He let out a few weak coughs and blearily tried to shift his face to the sky, hoping for just a small waft of fresh air. The concussion he could already start to feel in his throbbing skull made his thoughts swim. He struggled to remember how the hell he found himself in that dumpster. Again.

 

__________

 

“You want me to what?” Clint asked, eyebrow raised slightly in disbelief. Hill matched his gaze flatly.

“I want you to find out who Daredevil is.” She repeated.

“No, I heard you. Why me?” Clint knew Hill, she wasn’t one to mess about. Honestly, she wanted him out of her office just as much as he did. Their interactions were quick, easy and direct. He’d never had to ask her to repeat his assignment, but c’mon, this was a step too far.

“Because I have set twelve separate agents on this case and each have come back with either broken bones or claims that they ‘lost sight’ of the man. I am running out of patience.” She sighed, leaning back against the edge of her desk. Clint could tell Maria was tired. However long she’d spent trying to get the details SHIELD wanted was apparently too long. Ugh. He was gonna do it wasn’t he?

“Have you considered literally anyone else?” He asked in one final hopeful attempt to avoid this assignment.

“Yes Clint, I think I might have thought it through. But the deal is that no one else is good enough to keep up with this guy. He’s good Clint. Each one of our agents seems to think he may very well be the actual devil. He’s earned that name because it’s like he’s got eyes on the back of his head. He knows where each of them were hiding and he could see past each and every one of their cover stories.” Yep. Clint was gonna do it. Goddamn. “So you’re heading out tonight and you will find him, and follow him, and get me an ID.” 

Maria didn’t even have the grace to act surprised when Clint begrudgingly accepted the manilla folder she offered him. Instead she smirked at her success and turned back to her paperwork. He took a moment to stick his tongue out when her back was turned. For good measure.

 

__________

 

Okay. So that was it. It was Maria Hill’s fault and Clint could take zero percent of the blame. Yes. Excellent.

His nose wrinkled in disgust when something that he was pretty sure felt like a rotting fish was dislodged from the mound of garbage beneath him. He attempted to wriggle the one leg he could still feel but all that seemed to accomplish was that he pushed the fish into the waistband of his pants. Gross.

Just as he was struggling to think of anything more than the feel of fishbones on his hips Clint heard the distinct thump of a body landing in _his_ dumpster.  

Now that was just rude.

 

__________

 

Clint regretted every action in his life that had lead him to a point where he had to camp out on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen at three in the morning for the fourth night in a row. Well, he regretted almost all of them. That time he’d spent in Bangladesh hadn’t been so bad. A cold wind cut through both his jacket and his thoughts. God. Why did anyone live in that hell hole? Clint grinned at his own joke seeing as it’s not like anything else was amusing him. After all, he’d been sitting on that same rooftop for over six hours, not a muscle had moved except for the subtle twitch of his eyes while he scanned the city below for one small red idiot with horns. 

He considered changing roofs. While he’d been shifting his location each night this particular roof seemed especially inconvenient. As if the wind wasn’t irritating enough he’d also managed to pick a spot near a police precinct. Dear god it was depressing how much crime went on in Hell’s Kitchen. He’d thought it would’ve been a good idea, y’know maybe the devil guy might’ve dropped someone off on their doorstep. It wasn’t quite the guy’s style but Clint could hope.

And hope, it turned out, was for once actually on his side. There. Three blocks away Clint caught a glimpse of _something_ launching itself between the rooftops. A grin ghosted across Clint’s face while his feet moved of their own accord. Years of training pushed Clint to move amongst the shadows, entirely hidden from sight.  

Damn. That guy could move. Clint could almost forgive the other agents for having lost him when they tried. The man was quick, too quick, he leapt near-impossible gaps without a moment’s hesitation, he never faltered, and it was as though he was always looking at least twenty steps ahead. Clint struggled to keep the same pace while maintaining an eye on his target, it was difficult to say the least. He couldn’t tell if the devil was so good at this from experience with the layout of this part of the city or if he had good enough vision to match Clint’s. Then again in the reports he’d read the devil did seem to favour fighting in the dark. Perhaps he was one of those, ugh what were they calling them these days? Enhanced individuals. Clint could’ve believed it, especially considering the fact that the devil before him seemed to have no real regard for the light. While rooftops were not known for being well lit there was still a definite difference between the two men’s favoured routes. The devil seemed to disregard where the light was, relying on his speed and agility to keep him out of anyone’s sight for too long.The only comfort to Clint was that he knew that even the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wouldn’t know when Clint was tailing him. Clint was a professional.

As he made an elegant leap over the yellow-lit streets Clint considered that he might even be called graceful. Classy perhaps.

 

__________

 

The body beside him in the dumpster groaned. At least he thought that was what happened. The constant buzz that had been infiltrating his head from the moment he landed started to make some more sense as he fumbled for his hearing aid. It must’ve gotten dislodged during the fight. Judging by the feel of his shoulder, it wasn’t the only thing that was dislodged.

The man, yeah, that was probably a man, reached across Clint’s torso, grasping blindly for a hold on anything. He didn’t appreciate the groping. In fact, a frown appeared on between his brows, this was the least fun groping Clint had received in quite a while. Blearily he nudged the hand back onto it’s own side of the dumpster. Yes. That was good. Now Clint had his half of the dumpster, the way it should be. When a guy lands in a pile of garbage he needed to stake his territory. 

“Brrurgh?” Said the guy beside him. Quite eloquently.

“Yeah buddy,” Clint mumbled back, “I agree. Brrurgh sounds good right about now.”

 

__________

  


What the hell?

 

Where did he go?

 

Clint whipped around in place, peering into the darkness because there was no way in hell that guy just got away from him.

He was gone. That bastard was gone. Clint groaned, already dreading the look on Hill’s face when he reported that he still hadn’t got him yet. He hunched his shoulders and readjusted his bow. What a waste of another perfectly good night where Clint could’ve been doing normal things. Like sleeping.

Just as he turned, his hand reaching to push stray hairs from his face he felt the air get pushed from his lungs when his body slammed into the wall behind him. In seconds Clint had pushed himself off from the wall, the bow which had been strapped across his shoulders had already made its way into his grip. All that had happened without a conscious thought, the only thing Clint made himself aware of was the immediate need to block a roundhouse kick aimed at his face.

His fist was already moving to counter the next strike that the devil threw at his ribs. Clint was thrown off by the fact that he was already put on the defence. God, how embarrassing. He was a trained SHIELD agent and this amateur vigilante had not only got the drop on him but had already managed to get in two solid hits. Two. That’s not something that just happened to Clint. All this meant was that he was getting just a little bit pissed. He bared his teeth and whipped his fist into the devil’s chin. The lunatic didn’t even grunt in surprise. What an asshole. 

“Who even are you?” He dodged the punch aimed for his chest, the question left hanging in the air accompanied by grunts and hits that punctured the quiet.

“I don’t think you should get to be questioning me.” Daredevil hissed. “You’re the one who has been hiding out in _my_ city for days. Looking for me were you?” He punctuated his question with a billy club whacking into Clint’s brows. “Because it looks like it’s your lucky day.”

Oh shit. 

Yeah Clint could see why the papers called him the Devil. The bloodied grin before him was enough to fuel a lesser man’s nightmares.

It may very well have been his lucky day though because Clint was not a lesser man.

 

__________

 

The body beside him curled up in a ball, all sorts of mysterious liquids and other dumpster scraps must be getting all over his shit. Clint would’ve grinned at the dry cleaning bill the guy must be getting, except the split lip and broken nose he was sporting dampened the true radiant brilliance of his smile. 

The pair lay in the garbage for some time. No words were spoken but an occasional grunt of discomfort would make its way out as they attempted to readjust their battered bodies to a marginally more comfortable position. At last Clint saw the early rays of sunlight streaming across the sky. Damn. 

He blinked blearily up at the dawn before registering that something was missing. Something important. Something very him. Gah. If only that goddamn concussion was gone.

“Hey,” He slurred, catching the attention of his trash companion, “can you see my- my, uh, thing?”

 

The other guy scoffed. 

 

Yeah, yeah alright. So maybe that wasn’t the _clearest_ way Clint could’ve described it. But he knew what he meant. It was the thing. With the stuff.

“Y’know man. Like, the thing. It goes like ‘pew pew’ but not?”

If he could bother to open his eyes Clint imagined he would see even more amusement on the other guys face than he could hear in his voice.

“You mean a bow?” Clint let out a soft “aha!” In agreement, “Well no. I haven’t seen anything.” The guy huffed a laugh again. “The hell you even using that for? What century do you think you’re in?” 

How rude. This dude didn’t sound nearly as concussed as Clint felt and that definitely seemed impolite. Somehow.

“Says you.” He finally countered, after much too long a pause. “You’re out here doin’ like, a lil ninja thing.” He said, drowsily lifting his arms in an approximation of the classic ninja pose.

 

“Huh. You’re not wrong.” And with that statement the guy passed right out. Finally, some decent manners.

 

__________

 

As Clint felt himself getting launched from the edge of the building he considered, for the first time in his life, perhaps he _was_ a lesser man. The fight had lasted only a few minutes but the Daredevil, god what a stupid name, had taken the upper hand immediately and managed to not only bruise at least three of Clint’s ribs but he also managed to just kick him off the top of the roof.  

It was only halfway through the freefall that he remembered he couldn’t fly. By that point it was far too late to reach for a grappling arrow but apparently that didn’t matter. Daredevil may have been a pain in Clint’s ass (and ribs) but he wasn’t known for killing. Clint was happy about that. He was less happy when he landed as that resulted in him realising that the way Daredevil succeeds in kicking people off roofs without killing them is to kick them off roofs where they’ll land in a dumpster below.

Clint really didn’t appreciate that he landed face first.

 

He had barely gotten his arms underneath him to push himself up from the disgusting pile of garbage he had just been breathing in, when Daredevil, like an absolute dickhead, landed right on top of him. Clint felt his body sink and the air escape from his lungs. Daredevil dug his knees into Clint’s spine, he was certain his back would have been broken if it weren’t for his quiver. Did the devil even know that? Or was he just that much of an asshole? 

“Hey, wait a second,” Clint mumbled, to his surprise the devil actually seemed not only to hear him but actually decided to pause. Clint turned his head to see the devil’s fist hovering menacingly over Clint’s head. 

“Oh, man you actually stopped.”

“What did you want?” Daredevil growled. Yeah. He growled. Like he thought that by lowering his voice just a bit he was actually scaring people and not just sounding like he smoked ten packs a day.

“Well, mostly I just wanted to distract you so I can do this.” Clint surged up, pulling his knees beneath him as he pushed his body up, Daredevil lurched unsteadily atop of him. Clint kicked up using his momentum to push Daredevil back into the dumpster, crashing his head into the metal rim. Clint whipped an arrow from his quiver with the intention to stab it blindly into Daredevil’s shoulder but he had already rolled away. Despite the fact Daredevil didn’t seem to even be watching what Clint was doing he was always a step ahead, dodging and weaving beneath Clint’s attacks. He would actually be impressed if he wasn’t so pissed that he was having to fight this guy in a dumpster. All he wanted to do was a recon mission but no. Now he had to try and beat this asshole in the trash. 

Somehow Daredevil managed to launch Clint out into the alley. He rolled immediately to his feet, lifting his fists to prepare himself for whatever the Devil threw at him next. 

“What did you want from me?” He snarled. 

Okay, so Clint was prepared for anything except conversation. 

He grinned back at the devil, relaxing into his laid back persona despite the racing of his heart. 

“Just going for a stroll across the rooftops. How about you?” Clint almost wanted to chuckle at the frown that evidently crossed the devil’s face even beneath the mask. 

“What are you doing in my city?” 

“Not much of a conversationalist are you huh?”

“Answer the question.”

Clint sighed good naturedly, shifting in place as he subtly shifted his bow across his shoulder for easier access, but judging by the way he adjusted his grip on his billy club Clint figured somehow the guy had picked up on his movements. Huh. Maybe he wasn’t quite as much a rookie as Clint initially suspected. Interesting.

“Well, some little birdies have been telling stories. Stories about some guy in a halloween costume who is out here thinking he’s above the law.” 

The devil glared.

“What is it to you?”

Clint paused, genuinely confused. He looked down at his chest, double checking that he was wearing his Hawkeye get up. Look, Clint knew he wasn’t as well known as people like Cap and Stark, that was a given, and kind of what he wanted considering he was a spy and all. But he specifically wore the suit with a great big purple arrow on the front. How did this guy not recognise it?

“Uh, it’s kind of my job… You know who I am right?”

 

Huh. That seemed to throw him.

 

“Dude.” Well now Clint was just a bit offended.  “I’m literally an Avenger.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me buddy. I’m here to get information and you have been a real pain in the ass so far. I just want to go to bed.”

The devil smirked at him. “You’re not too good at this are you?”

“Hey, I’m good at my job. Sorry I didn’t anticipate your sneaky ninja skills, theoretically you should just be some loser in a cheap costume, I mean seriously dude,” Clint gave the suit a once-over “You’ve got horns.” 

“They’re intimidating.” 

Clint snorted.

“Yeah sure thing.”

Daredevil cocked his head to the side, evidently paying attention to something other than their conversation. Again, this guy was rude. 

“I need to leave. Stay out of my city.”

 

And with that he leapt up to a nearby fire escape because he is a dramatic little shit. Clint definitely didn’t take the opportunity to slide down the wall and hang out in a grimy alley while being covered in garbage because Daredevil hadn’t beat him. Not at all. But damn if he wasn’t glad the guy left before Clint collapsed.

  


__________

 

The guy seemed to have woken back up. The reason Clint noticed this was because after waking he immediately turned to the side to throw up. The fun thing about where he chose to lean was that it was right in Clint’s direction.

“Oh dude.” Clint wrinkled his nose in disgust. This was his clean suit. “Gross."

“Mblrgh.” Was the only response he got.

“Hey, hey man are you awake?” Clint struggled to focus his gaze on the guy, his whole black and red get up blended surprisingly well with the rubbish. “Man I think you gotta concussion, you gotta… uh… like stay awake?” Oh shit. Clint also had a concussion huh. He tried to remember what it was you did when you managed to smash your head that badly. It was staying awake right? Yeah. They should both be awake.

“Mblrgh?”  The guy asked. Damn. Not good conversation so far.

“Hey guy? Do you even have a name? I refuse to call you ‘Daredevil’ okay? That’s just dumb.”

“’s not dumb.” He murmured. Ah. The devil can talk.

“Yeah it is.” 

“No it’s not.”

“Uh yeah.”

“Uh nah.”

“Uhuh.” 

“Nuhuh.”

 

Clint grinned at how successful he was being. The guy was becoming more and more lucid with each response. He could tell by the way he tried to get up on his knees and elbows in an attempt to loom over Clint. It was cute.

“So,” Clint said stopping their childish argument, “name?”

“Mike.”

Clint paused.

“That’s not it is it?”

It was hard to tell in the dark but he was pretty sure the other guy was laughing at him.

  


__________

 

Clint was determined this time. He was going to find the devil again, he would not lose any fights and nobody would be getting the drop on him. Excellent plan Clint. Good work.

He peered over the rooftops. Surely the devil would be back again that night, he certainly never seemed to take a break. Huh. Maybe he actually was the devil. Clint shook his head at his own stupidity. But the thought certainly stayed with him as he finally caught sight of the man in question. Leaping and flipping his way across the streets. 

Well that was interesting. It definitely seemed like he was leaping and flipping his way to _Clint_.

 

Shit.

 

Clint pulled back his arm to grasp and place an arrow. He wasn’t going to be making the same mistakes again. Clearly the two of them were opposites, Clint’s strengths lay in long range battle while this guy was more of the close quarters, melee ninja combat variety. So as soon as the devil was in range of hearing Clint was sure to call out.

“That’s far enough.” 

The devil slowed. Halting a building over. Clint watched the dark figure stand ominously at the edge of the shadows, but he was certainly close enough for Clint to see the heavy breaths the man took. Ah. Not the Devil then. He couldn’t be sure but it seemed to Clint that the Devil wouldn’t run out of breath that easily.

“You’re back.”

“And you’re observant.” Clint retorted. 

“I told you to leave my city.”

“And I told you I wanted to find out who you were. So can we skip to the part where you tell me what I need to know and we can never see each other again?”

Clint didn’t even need to have exceptional eyesight to see the look of utter contempt on the other man’s face.

 

“Look Hawkeye,”

“Aha! You learnt my name! Did you google me?”

“I don’t want trouble with the Avengers or SHIELD. I’m just trying to make my city a better place. Leave now.” 

Surprisingly enough, Clint didn’t lower his bow.   

“No I think I’ll stay right here, now c’mon _Daredevil_ or Mike or whatever your actual name is, will you please just give me a name so I can go home and we’ll both call it a day. Night. You get it.” 

“For a spy you seem awfully bad at the whole secret identity thing.”

Daredevil cocked his head to the side before seeming to struggle with a choice for a moment. His feet twitched in two different direction, torn between confronting Clint and heading presumably to another fight. Finally he seemed to decide Clint was more worthy of his attention.

 

Daredevil leapt across the roof landing barely two feet from Clint’s arrow. Curiously Clint didn’t see his movements as a threat. He held the bowstring taut, constantly vigilant and wary but trusting Daredevil’s own sense of self preservation enough to know he wouldn’t do anything too stupid. Probably.

Clint held steady as Daredevil stride forward, closing the distance between the two. His face was tight and intense, well, the amount of face Clint could actually see under that cowl. 

“Hawkeye,” it was almost embarrassing how much Clint loved it when people actually used his code name. “There are people in danger right now. I don’t know you but you following me is a hindrance I won’t tolerate any longer. So either get your shit together and come help or leave. My. City.” 

Huh. 

Well this seemed as good a time as any to see the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in action.

  


__________

  


“We should get out of this dumpster.”

“We should get out of _my_ dumpster.”

"How is it yours?” 

“I landed in it first.”

“That’s stupid.” 

“You’re stupid.”

 

__________

 

“There are fifteen men on the first floor, two hostages near the east windows. Four men patrol the roof entrance and six more at both the front and back of the ground floor. The two groups will intersect in two minutes leaving the back entrance open. I take that one you enter from the roof and take out anyone trying to get up and out. Protect the hostages.”

Clint was duly impressed at Daredevil’s little rundown. He couldn’t imagine that he’d had much time to research the patrol schedule for this gang but the way Daredevil reported on their movements left no room for questioning. Clint murmured an agreement before immediately making his way to the designated roof. He was sure to keep an eye on the devils progress. He watched as the man slunk through the darkness, always keeping out of the guards line of sight. Damn. The guy was actually a ninja. It infuriated Clint how genuinely cool he found that. 

The devil had managed to take out any guards on the peripheral quietly and efficiently before sneaking in through the vacant doorway by the time Clint had cleared even just the rooftop guards. The pair made their way through the building. A silent deadly duo who worked without need for communication. They were skilled and far too efficient for any need to truly rely on one another. But the assistance was certainly appreciated. 

At last they met one another facing off against the final squad of gang members. Hushed, shuddering breaths came from below the window, the hostages desperately trying to muffle their sobs. Tension filled the air as all parties waited to see who would make the first move.

The answer apparently came in the form of Daredevil’s billy club ricocheting off the head of one man into another’s. Clint lurched into action, arrows flying through the air accompanied by the piercing screams of men who had just found an arrow protruding from the middle of their limbs.

The fight was over sooner than Clint expected. He found himself in a room scattered with unconscious and groaning bodies and two thankful hostages. What he was missing was a certain bloody devil. Goddamnit.

  


__________

  


“So…. are we actually getting out?”

“If you’re so enthusiastic why don’t you do it first.”

“Well… shut up you’re not doing so hot yourself ”

“I object.”  


__________

 

 

At long, long last the police had shown up and taken the hostages back to their homes. God. Took their bloody time.

Clint hobbled his way back to the roof, pleasantly surprised to see that the first rays of an early morning sun were yet to arrive. No matter how tired he was he still had a little time to find and catch the devil. Again.

He was saved from having to make a decision about which way to start his search quite conveniently as it was at that moment that he felt his ribs caving in. Shock and pain mingled in his gasp. But Clint was a damn professional so he was already rolling out of range of a follow up kick. He turned to his attacks and was oh so happy to find himself facing a dozen men. Judging by their incredibly subtle jackets with their bloody names on it, these were the Dogs of Hell.

“What’ve I done to you guys now?” Clint couldn’t be bothered to keep the exasperation from his voice as he prepared to fight yet again. He was getting far too old for this shit.

“You been out ‘ere takin’ out our boys.” One of the men growled at him, his voice low and gravelly. 

“You must have got me mistaken with someone else. I’m missing one or two devil horns right now.”

“Nah,” the man bared his teeth in what was either a grin or an attempt to impress Clint with the fact he had been punched in the face so many times that none of them were his own, all plated in gold and silver. Clint considered adding to the amount of times he’d been punched. “See word is that you took out the Thunderbolts, and we got a deal with ‘em boys. They keep their noses outta our business and we do the same to them. But what you done is you took your fight with ‘em into our territory. And we ain't gunna let that slide are we boys?” He turned back to his friends, all gripping at bats and clubs and guns ready to fight.

 

Goddamnit.

 

“Okay boys, sounds fun. Who wants to dance first?” Clint launched himself forward, two arrows already loosed into the chests of the men closest. While their screams were loosed into the uncaring night air Clint slid to his knees, dodging below a hit at his chest and instead swept the leader’s legs out from beneath him.

The fight carried on for far longer than Clint wanted. He was stabbed and shot and hit and god, he was tired. At some point more gang members had shown up and he was beginning to get just a bit overwhelmed. Of course, because the universe is eternally and always against him, that was the moment Daredevil decided to step in. 

The man arrived from nowhere, even Clint couldn’t have seen where he’d shown up from. He dived into the fray with a ferocity befitting of his name. The man snarled while weaving between enemies, a trail of bodies groaning in his wake. It was a real shame Clint could still fight, he was almost tempted to pretend he was too injured just so he could sit and observe. No wonder other SHIELD agents hadn’t been able to get a hold on the guy when he moved like that.

Together Hawkeye and Daredevil took out the remaining gang members. Their heaving breaths filled the quiet air, Dogs of Hell scattered around their feet.

“Thanks.” Clint beamed at Daredevil. It was only sixty percent sarcastic.

“Welcome. Now leave.” Daredevil didn’t even react to Clint’s exaggerated eye roll as they stepped back into their now routine conversation. 

“C’mon man. Look, thanks for helping me out, really. But can you just give me a name. I’m bleeding, and tired, and also tired and have I mentioned tired? Can we just get this over with. Because otherwise I’m just gonna have to go back home and check all the bloody CCTV footage in the city and that just seems tedious. But I’ll do it. So just give me a name and we can call it a day. I promise not to come over to your place for sleepovers where we would stay up all night eating pizza and talking about cute boys.”

Daredevil had evidently stopped paying attention halfway through Clint’s little speech. He was already making his way to some new problem. Clint double checked none of his bones were broken yet before giving chase.

  


__________

 

“Hey Dorkdevil look at me.”

Daredevil scoffed but Clint was stupidly proud of that name and he did want the guy to check him out. He’d just gotten the leg he could still feel over the lip of the dumpster. That was at least a fifth of his body outside of the garbage and he felt like someone should be appreciating his hard work.

“Dorkdevil. Hey. Dude. Man. Devilguy.” Clint blearily reached over to poke at the other trash body and was mildly concerned when his hand came away streaked with red. And no matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise, he didn’t really believe it was tomato sauce from that burger squashed beneath the devil’s left hip. Shit. 

“Hey,” Clint’s voice was more focused, intense and sincere enough apparently to get the devil’s attention. 

“Huh?”

“Man you’re bleeding out. That’s not good.” He added unnecessarily. Clint swiped his hand over his pockets hoping his phone was still there. Nope.

Double shit.

“Man, you got a doctor or someone you can go to?” He paused, looking at the state the two of them were in and amended his question, “Someone who can come to you?”

“Claire’ll be pissed.” Huh. That was an actual person name. If Clint keeps his shit together for a while longer he might’ve just gotten a lead on actually finding out Daredevil’s identity.

“Call her.” He ordered.

“Nah.” 

“Yah.”

“Fine, but she’s gonna yell at me and it’s your fault.”

 

Wow, if Clint got him to agree that easily that guy must’ve been in some real bloody pain. Hah. _Bloody_.

 

__________

  


Clint arrived to the scene of the fight only moments behind Daredevil, but judging by the way he had already taken out two guys he wasn’t one for wasting time. Clint jumped into the fray, his dwindling supply of arrows being complemented with fists and feet. However, the pair were clearly not off to a great start. Daredevil appeared to have been shot in the shoulder and Clint was almost certain that there was something very very wrong with his ribs yet again. It was a mess. Clint was a professional goddamnit. Why did he keep getting his ass handed to him this week?

The answer to that question came in the form of a right hook in his face. He grimaced, blood running from his nose. He was sure to look the man who had just made such a terrible decision in the eye before returning the favour.

Clint found his back pressed against the devil’s. They were surrounded, each throwing just as many hits as they gave. The good news was that they looked really badass. The bad news was that they were losing. 

Daredevil grunted behind him, presumably taking a hit to the face if the sound of him spitting blood was any indication. Okay, so he definitely wasn’t the actual devil, the man was far too mortal for that. At the sound of Daredevil collapsing to his knees behind Clint revised that thought. He was hella mortal. And now he seemed to be dying. 

Funnily enough, so was Clint. 

The men surrounded them. Beating and hitting them, the two of them were clearly losing and as Clint was pushed further and further back, towards the gaping precipice of the roof’s ledge, he considered that he had not been awfully successful lately. It was embarrassing. And then the blows stopped. 

But only because now Clint was falling off a roof. Again.

 

For one shining moment he had total clarity. There he was, plummeting through the air, watching as Daredevil took a final stand against the gang only to be kicked right off the ledge too. Clint turned middair to face the ground that rose below to meet him, only to find himself reminded quite eerily of the exact same dumpster as before awaiting him.

 

Well shit.

 

__________

  


“Well, would you look at that. You made a friend.”

Clint struggled to open his eyes. Someone new had clearly shown up judging by the distinctly feminine and not-in-a-dumpster voice. At last the soft light of morning lit up the space well enough that even in his state he could identify that there was indeed a woman standing just outside of the garbage they were in. Daredevil still lay to Clint’s left but apparently the sight of this woman was enough motivation for him to start attempting to get up. The woman didn’t look awfully impressed by his efforts.

“Sit down you idiot. You’re already disgusting enough I don’t need more garbage on you.” She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face as she took in the devil’s unkempt appearance. “God, you probably have half a dozen infections at least.”

At last she appeared to take pity on him, offering a thankfully gloved hand to the vigilante and hauling his ass out of the trash.

Clint was duly impressed but also hella concussed and definitely in need of medical attention of his own. He was glad the devil had this woman especially because she already was in the process of evaluating his injuries and applying enough pressure to his wounds to make the guy squirm, which Clint thought was hilarious. 

Still mad that he seemed to have lost his phone Clint swept his hand through the garbage closest to him just in case luck decided to be on his side for once and his phone would be right there. It wasn’t. 

The woman stopped her torture of Daredevil when she noticed Clint’s movements. 

“You too.” Clint looked back at her.

“Me?” For a moment he wondered how dumb that question was, seeing as there was no one else in that dingy alleyway. But still, Clint didn’t survive this long by not being paranoid sometimes and he definitely didn’t know this lady. Maybe she was about to insist that Clint should giver her all his money. Hah. Jokes on her because he had none.

“Yes, you too. You both look like shit so get out of the trash and come with me. I’ll fix you up.” Even if his hearing aids weren’t being little shits then Clint was pretty sure he wouldn’t have heard whatever it was she mumbled to herself after. But reading her lips he thought it was a fair guess that she was complaining about _damn superheroes with your damn injuries using all my damn supplies_.

  
__________ 

 

Somehow Clint found himself in a rather nice apartment. It was homey, and warm and best of all it contained a wonderful nurse with a somewhat alarming quantity of medical supplies to which the only justification he received was a gesture indicating the prone form of Daredevil and a “it’s that idiots fault” which Clint thought was fair enough.

Claire had already checked Clint over for any immediate damage that needed addressing and after telling him to hold an ice pack to his ribs and handing him a damp cloth to start cleaning up the blood she deemed him well enough to just sit for a moment while she dealt with the rapidly bleeding out devil sprawled across her couch.

It was almost peaceful just sitting there and getting cleaned up while watching her work. She was calm and efficient and apparently constantly prepared to swat away any of Daredevil’s half hearted attempts to push her back. Honestly, did the guy have a death wish? Was he so against help that he was willing to try and get rid of the woman he had called for help in the first place? Clint shook his head at the idiocy.

Claire seemed to take Clint’s sudden movements as a sign something was grossly wrong and decided to finish stitching up Daredevil’s injuries and threaten him with bodily harm if he _dared move and ruin them I swear to God_.

After that she came over to inspect Clint yet again and check on the amount of blood that continued to slowly ooze from his shoulder wound onto her couch.

“Sorry about the upholstery.” He found himself saying. She let out a quick huff of laughter.

“There’s a reason I changed it all to black once that guy kept showing up.” Clint peered around her to double check that yes, Daredevil was also situated on a black couch, happily bleeding out but still firmly maintaining his grip on the bandages Claire had instructed him to hold.

“Yeah about that,” Clint could guess he was slurring his words but he was nothing if not persistent, “How’d ya even meet ‘im? He’s so hard to catch.” Clint whined.

Claire smiled with fond exasperation. “You’ll be surprised to know I found him in a dumpster. Just bleeding out in my trash downstairs. He scared the hell out of a kid a few floors down.” Her voice had softened so much Clint struggled to catch her words. But he didn’t need to hear them to know how much emotion was choking her throat. He could see enough of it in her eyes. 

“That idiot keeps throwing himself at the bad guys as though no matter how much bodily harm he takes he is still guilty for not doing enough for Hell’s Kitchen. Although,” She brightened a little more, as she spoke even while her hands started stitching up Clint, her eyes never leaving his shoulder as though any eye contact between the two would be too much. It was safer to focus on her work and just let the words pour forth. “I’ve got to admit. I was almost glad to see you in there with him. How insane is that? I was actually happy that someone else was getting their ass beat-” Clint scoffed “As long as he wasn’t alone. He needs people and he’s too busy being in denial about it to figure his shit out enough to accept any help given to him.”

 

Clint was tempted to inform her that he hadn’t actually meant to team up with the devil, he was there on a job and nothing more. But as he felt the gentle hands of a kind woman who had volunteered to patch him up based on nothing more than his willingness to fight alongside her friend he considered that perhaps it was more than just a job. After taking out the Dogs of Hell earlier he really hadn’t needed to keep searching all night. He could’ve just gone home, told Hill that his priority had been the hostages and he’d get back to the search later. But he hadn’t wanted to do that. He’d stayed out because he wanted to talk to Daredevil again. Hell, he just wanted to see the guy fight. It was mesmerising watching the man he’d initially suspected to be some amateur in a halloween costume actually step up and prove to be half a damn ninja. Clint may very well actually have been able to learn something from the guy if they kept their little teamwork routine up. And that’s what it had been. Teamwork. Clint knew his strengths weren’t exactly playing well with others. The Avengers alone infuriated him more often than not. But Daredevil… Well Daredevil was just good. He was good at his job and he was damn good at taking a hit. Not many people could get the drop on Clint but that guy had managed it. And even when he clearly didn’t want someone around his personal grudges weren’t enough to stop him helping people. It was pretty admirable.

 

And… that was enough emotion for the day. Clint needed to change the subject.

 

“Hey,” Claire looked up at the curious tone in his voice, “You also know what his name is too right?”

Look, he was willing to admit that it wasn’t the sneakiest way to try and get information. But to be fair, not only was his concussion clouding his judgement but he did figure she was a civilian, maybe she would easily convince herself that Clint also knew Daredevil’s name and then would just casually slip it into conversation. Yes. Good idea. 

Claire apparently disagreed judging by the very skeptical and annoyingly amused look she was giving him. Really, the raised eyebrow was just excessive at that point. 

“Yes I do.”

“Ah,” now what? “Excellent. Me too.” 

“That’s not true.”

“Ahh… yes it is.”

 

Clint could swear she pulled the stitches just a bit tighter than necessary because of his own childish attempt to convince her. Or, maybe Clint was actually a genius and his plan would have been super successful except _somebody_ half dressed in a stupid devil suit kept laughing in the background. Clint glared over at him. 

And then, huh, well isn’t that interesting. Clint looked closer, the word reflected in the window behind Daredevil was backwards, nearly covered with old and dried bloodstains but there it was. Clint smiled. Claire was suspicious.

“Hey Claire?” 

“Uhuh.”

"Do you even use that first aid kit for anyone else but Daredevil?” 

She squinted at him, clearly aware there was some kind of angle to his questioning but couldn’t seem to see anything inherently wrong with answering that simple question. 

“No I don’t. Why?” 

“Ah well that’s good. I was wondering how Matt would feel about sharing.”

 

God, Clint wished he could have taken a photo right then of their faces. Claire was whipping her head around as though the answer to how he had figured it out would just be lying in plain sight around her living room. Daredev-Matt had just let his jaw drop before clenching his teeth shut and definitely not pouting or anything.Clint let out an easy chuckle, all of his pains forgotten for a moment and just reveling in the satisfaction of their shock.

Matt grunted, either in anger, discomfort or just because, as Clint was learning, the guy was a dramatic little shit. He shifted himself on the couch trying to sit up where he took a moment where he seemed to have a war within himself as to whether or not he should remove his mask. With a begrudging sigh he finally peeled it from his head, seemingly having decided that Clint being the incredibly fantastic and successful super spy that he was would’ve found out what he looked like the moment he went home anyway. 

And like the asshole he is Matt just smirked at the evident confusion that overtook Clint when he refused to meet his eyes. The man just sat there staring blankly at nothing so clearly something was up, Clint had just revealed the guy’s secret identity and he doesn’t even get a glare in response? Not even an eyeroll? Clint knew better than to shift uncomfortably in his seat but he couldn’t deny that the fact Matt didn’t turn to him was a little disconcerting. However, before Clint could figure out what was up with him, Claire caught his attention. 

“How did you know?” She had furrowed her brows, clearly confused what she must have given away from his dumb questions to let him guess.

Clint debated not telling them and just leaving as the exciting, mysterious enigma that he was. But Claire had also very kindly taken him in to her home and by the furtive looks she kept sending Daredevil’s way she already felt guilty for leading Clint to his identity. 

“Your first aid kit has his name on it.” Clint finally said.

Claire pursed his lips, looking down at the offending box with surprise. Even Matt seemed shocked that was how Clint had figured it out and just a little mad that Claire had done something so foolish.

“Oh stop looking at me like that,” she chided him, “The label isn’t even facing him I made sure of that, plus the writing is light and nearly covered.” Her explanation didn’t seem to placate the devil just yet. “What did you want me to do Matt? If I use that kit for any casual injury someone else has it’s going to be awfully suspicious at how much shit I have for serious injuries. Seriously Matt, because of you I have had to steal any and all extra supplies I could from the hospital. So you keep your judgement to yourself thanks, without that box you would have bled out a dozen times over.”

After that Matt seemed appropriately chastised and with satisfaction Claire turned back to her work on Clint’s shoulder before muttering “It’s not my fault this guy has bloody x-ray vision.” Clint laughed at that. Although it certainly wasn’t the first time he had been accused of having that particular superpower it was fun hearing it come from a person as practical as Claire. “How do I even end up meeting all you powered people?” She asked more to herself than anyone else.

 Clint snapped his eyes up to Daredevil who was still laying dramatically across the couch dutifully pretending he wasn't in pain. Or maybe he wasn’t? How high even was the guy’s pain tolerance?

 “You have powers?” Clint finally asked when no one gave him an explanation, but all that achieved was both Claire and Matt turning to him in confusion. It was of course at that moment that Clint realised Matt had still not looked at him, even though he was facing Clint’s direction there was a certain vagueness in his look. Huh, would you look at that, he’s blind. Well, Matt couldn’t look at it ha. Actually that was a good point.

“How do you even do what you do?”  Matt just sighed, clearly already tired of having to explain this to people. But hey, Clint was nothing if not determined so he elected to do the very mature thing of just asking the question over and over. At first Matt simply rolled onto his side, shoving his hands over his ears before immediately regretting it what with the stab wound and all. Then when Claire began to snicker at their childish antics he simply pouted in protest. After nearly two solid minutes of Clint’s pestering he gave up and began to speak. Apparently he could suffer through getting beaten to a pulp every night but dealing with Clint for any extended period of time was too much for him. Clint was a bit proud.

 

“Accident when I was a kid, chemicals took my sight but enhanced everything else. I can’t ‘see’ like you do but I can sense where things are. I can hear not only the shift of your clothes when you moved forward just now, but your heartbeat is also clear to me. It started racing right before you said my name before, presumably you were excited with your little discovery but it has since calmed down, you clearly have practice controlling yourself. These senses are how I know your left ear is bleeding,’ Clint reached a hand up to check and sure enough it came away damp and scarlet. Huh, that explains why he was having so much trouble detecting sound from that side even though his hearing aids were still in. Matt carried on as though Clint hadn’t done anything. “I can smell gunpowder on your sleeve.” Clint sniffed it experimentally and found nothing. “It is about three days old I’d say.” Okay, that was creepy. “There is a woman complaining about her husband’s cooking in the next building,” Matt sniffed the air, “He used too much salt.”

 Clint sat back in appreciative awe. Just looking at the man before him who cradled his left arm that was almost certainly broken, one wouldn’t suspect him to be capable of half the ninja shit he pulled once they saw the vacant look in his eyes. But then again it’s not like Clint hadn’t had his own skills questioned when he’d asked Nat to sign what was happening in conversations whenever his hearing aids broke. Maybe he had more in common with the devil than he thought.

 “Cool.” Yeah, that was a good response, nice and casual. Very professional. Clint was great at this.

 Matt seemed somehow more confused by Clint’s response. “That’s it? Just ‘Cool’?”

 Evidently Matt had some kind of a history of people not exactly appreciating the revelation. Well, Clint knew a bit of what that was like so he wasn’t one to judge. And more importantly, Clint was really regretting getting hit in the head so much and he didn’t really have the energy to care about this little revelation while he was too busy trying not to throw up. Also, considering the life he led, finding out a bling guy liked to beat up crime bosses in his free time was by no means the weirdest thing to happen to him. 

“Yup,” he nodded. Matt seemed relieved at getting to avoid whatever confrontation he had been anticipating. Honestly, Clint might even have allowed himself to believe he saw Matt smile for a half a second there.

“Well I’m glad your little bonding moment is over now.” Claire commented, leaning casually against the door leading to the kitchen. Clint hadn’t even noticed her get up and leave he was still reeling from both the revelation and headache, whilst pretending neither affected him. Of course, that didn’t stop him from being immediately thankful when she chucked a packet of frozen peas towards him and instructed him to place it over his shiny new black eye.

  


The three of them passed some time in silence. One calmly cleaning up her home while two others lay in varying degrees of pain on her furniture. It was surprisingly peaceful. Clint certainly never anticipated being in a position like this, when he’d taken the job he suspected that he’d hang out on some rooftops, find out the Devil’s patterns and follow him home one day without ever having to interact with the guy. SHIELD preferred to find and store their intel without letting the subjects knowing what they had found out. Hell, Clint himself had contributed a good chunk of that info without a second thought, and none of those little adventures had landed him in some stranger’s apartment with a grimacing blind ninja who was trying to convince her he was ‘perfectly fine’ and needed to go home becauses he’s ‘got a case tomorrow c’mon Claire just let me go I’m alright’. A small smile made its way across Clint’s features while watching their interactions. Matt was like an entirely different person to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. No doubt he really played up the “blind guy” act in his everyday life, nobody would suspect someone like that liked to spend their evenings galavanting around the streets. Clint himself had used that tactic more than once to get out of a tight spot, although he had to admit Matt’s character would work even better because one look at his face and you can tell he wasn’t like everybody else, of course, nobody would suspect it was because he could hear you coming from three blocks away. Shit. No wonder Clint was found out so easily.

 

“Hey,” He had no qualms about interrupting the pair’s argument, both Matt and Claire turned to him expectantly, “When did you know I was following you?” 

The Devil grinned. It was almost eerie coming from Matt’s puppy dog-like face. 

“About twenty minutes after you first started waiting on that roof.” 

Clint frowned, “How does that work? I was totally still. I didn’t even move.” 

“That’s how,” Matt said unhelpfully with a light shrug of his shoulders, “It was unnatural. Nobody just sits there like that. Not on a roof. And not in Hell’s Kitchen.” He said it like it was obvious.. “I know the sound of my city and you were like a…” Matt struggled for a moment, trying to find the right words. “You were a negative space. Everything else beats and pulses, the city is alive at night with sound and movement, but you? You were so still I wouldn’t have even known you were a person if it weren’t for your heartbeat, for a second there I was considering that you might be a gargoyle.”

Clint tried not be offended by that. It wasn’t the blind man’s fault he couldn’t see how truly gorgeous Clint was. Instead he elected to just nod and pretend he wasn’t already planning a way to mask his heartbeat in future if he ever encountered someone else with Matt’s skills. But before he could get a solid idea of his plan Matt interrupted his thoughts.

 

“Who told you to stalk me?” Ah, there was the Devil again. A hint of aggression and a touch of paranoia accompanied by the telling return of Matt’s gravelly voice. 

“No one, I was just curious.”

“You’re lying.” Clint was actually impressed with the surety in Matt’s voice, Clint was a damn good liar, he had every reason to be and was thus a bit surprised by being called out so easily on it. “I can hear it,” Matt continued, nonplussed, “Your heart rate changes when you lie. Don’t worry,” he grinned, “I know when everyone lies.”

Claire simply rolled her eyes at Matt’s dramatics with the air of someone who found out he can hear lies the hard way.

“Fine it was SHIELD.” Clint didn’t have the energy to play any games that night, Matt would’ve figured it out on his own eventually, might as well cut to the chase. “They like knowing about new players on the scene and you caught their interest.”

Matt nodded thoughtfully, apparently satisfied with that answer.

“You should be grateful,” Clint couldn’t help but add, “I don’t just stalk everyone I meet.”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not.”

Matt turned earnestly towards Claire, “Claire, he’s lying. He’s actually lying I heard it.”

“Sure thing Matt.”

  


-

 

“Yes?” Clint grinned at the resignation he could already hear in Daredevil’s voice. The smile only widened when he finally bothered to turn around and face the man in red. Yeah, that mask was still hilarious.

“Hey Hornhead,”  Eh, he was pretty sure that particular glare he was getting meant Matt was actually fond of the nickname “How ya been?”

“What are you doing here Clint?”

“Well you’re no fun tonight.” 

“Hawkeye.” 

“Daredevil.”

Matt sighed, finally getting down from the ledge he had chosen to dramatically perch on. Clint had to hand it to the guy, he knew how to make an entrance. The pair paused a moment, simply sitting together and watching the city in their own ways.

As pleasant as it was to feel safe and calm for a change Clint could tell by the rigidity of his companion that Matt was itching to know why Clint was back in Hell’s Kitchen again for the first time since they left Claire’s apartment late, or well… early, that morning two weeks ago. In fact, Clint peered at Matt out of the corner of his eye, Matt must’ve been pretty anxious about what Clint had to say, he’d only entered Hell’s Kitchen twenty minutes ago. And now that he’d had time Clint knew the other man’s schedule back to front and Matt had a court case the next morning which means he’d noticed Clint and must’ve run all the way there just to make his entrance. Ha. 

“Don’t get your horns in a twist man, I don’t have bad news or anything.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Matt who continued to glare moodily out at the city below. “Look, I haven’t written your file.”

Aha, there was the reaction he wanted. His little announcement had clearly taken Daredevil by surprise. All things considered Matt was pretty damn good at being aware of the signals his body was sending but the guy hadn’t seen anyone make a facial expression for over a decade, so he really could work more on some damn subtlety.

“Why?” He finally asked. 

“I’ve done my homework Murdock,” the guy actually tensed when he said his name, as if Clint hadn’t scoped this place our the moment he’d arrived. “You’re not a bad guy. And although your methods might be bit, well, questionable we need people like you out here.”

He couldn’t tell because of the mask but he was pretty sure he was getting an eyebrow raise in response. Clint wasn’t exactly used to being forthcoming with information, that was normally the other person's job.

“Look, if SHIELD knew half the shit you could do they’d be after you in a second. And they wouldn’t just drop it. Seriously man, you’d be a ‘valuable asset’ and all that.” Clint paused, careful with his words as always, “but, the city needs people like you. SHIELD, the Avengers, we’ve become the big leagues. I don’t even know if I like it. But hey, that’s life I guess. Anyway, just because we’re out there fighting robots or aliens or whatever other bullshit they plan to rope me into, it doesn’t mean there ain’t trouble out here. SHIELD keeps it’s eyes too high sometimes, planning for apocalypses and government corruption and all that but all they’re doing is missing the people down here,” he gestured vaguely at the streets below that hummed with life “these are the ones facing the extortion, the beatings. They’re the ones the law slips right past.” His voice had dropped to a whisper as the words settled into the air, nestled softly in the breeze that swept them away from the pair. He knew Daredevil heard anyway. 

 

“Huh,” Matt breathed equally as soft. “Didn’t expect that.”

 

Clint cleared his throat, the whole situation was getting far too close to actual emotions for his liking. Better skeddadle the fuck outta there while he could. Clambering to his feet he sent a mock salute in Daredevil’s direction.

 

“Well,” He paused, gazing over the rooftops to plan his exit route, “That’s all Hornhead, catch ya later.’’

 

And with that he leapt into the darkness knowing he had somehow just managed to acquire a new ally and maybe one day a friend if he ever decided to stick it out with the weirdo in the devil costume who made sure to listen until Clint’s footsteps faded into the cacophony of the city’s nightlife.


End file.
